Reality Programming Association

Chapter 50: Chapter 21: Red Alert for an Extremely Heavy Rainstorm

If TDI was really involved, then no matter how deep it was buried, it couldn’t possibly remain completely hidden from a comprehensive police investigation.

He leaned back on the sofa, listening to the rain growing heavier outside as he mulled over his next move.

Simply telling his cousin, ’There’s something wrong with TDI, you should look into it,’ was definitely not an option. He had no evidence, only pure speculation. Moreover, TDI was a top academic organization at MIT. Telling the police would also expose the fact that Wen Xiao had secretly looked at their files.

He had to find a way to probe what the police knew without implicating himself and Wen Xiao.

’What could he do?’

’If a negative approach like ”reporting” them won’t work, what about a positive one, like ”praising” them?’

’For example, what if he ”casually” mentioned to his cousin that he’d been suffering from insomnia lately and wanted to try this supposedly popular sleep-aid program? He could say he heard it was amazingly effective for hypnosis and could even help him build good habits.’

That way, if the police already had leads connecting TDI to the smiling suicide cases, his cousin would surely have a strong reaction, even if the investigation was confidential. He’d do it out of a desire to protect him.

He would definitely forbid him from getting involved.

On the other hand, if his cousin’s reaction was mild, it would mean that TDI wasn’t considered a dangerous target by the police.

While it wouldn’t completely rule them out as suspects, it was the best way to leverage the information available to him.

With this in mind, Yu Xian picked up his phone again. He decided not to text; it was too difficult to gauge someone’s true reaction through messages.

He glanced at the time. It wasn’t 5:00 PM yet, the time the weather forecast had mentioned. The sheet of rain outside hadn’t quite turned into a solid wall yet. ’His cousin probably isn’t swamped with work just yet, right?’

After a moment’s thought, he dialed Yu Zhengze’s number. The phone rang for a long time before someone finally picked up.

The other end of the line was filled with the roar of wind and rain, punctuated by the wail of police sirens.

”Hello? Xiaoxian? What’s up?” Yu Zhengze’s voice was loud, barely audible over the background noise.

”Hey, a window here is leaking. I’m worried it’s going to flood the whole floor tonight.”

He’d made up an excuse to start the conversation.

”Just put a bucket under it, or use a mop to push the water toward the bathroom drain. The signal’s not great over here—Xiaoli, go on, what is it?”

Someone on Yu Zhengze’s end seemed to be shouting, ”Captain Yu.” He responded to them before shouting back into the phone.

”Anything else? If not, I’m hanging up!”

”Oh, hey, one more thing. My insomnia’s been getting pretty bad lately, and I haven’t been feeling well. I saw this foreign program online called TDI—Targeted Dream Incubation. It’s supposed to cure insomnia, and I was thinking of trying it. Have you ever heard of it? Is it reliable?”

Yu Xian, afraid of interrupting his cousin’s work, tried to get everything out in one go.

”T-what? TDI? Don’t just start taking random things. If you have insomnia, go to a hospital and get a prescription for melatonin! Don’t trust those online quack cures!”

Someone seemed to be rushing him, and his tone grew hurried.

”Look, Xiaoxian, just try to get more exercise and break a sweat, that’ll help you sleep! Stay home, make sure the doors and windows are secure! Gotta go!”

The call ended, and Yu Xian stared at his phone.

His cousin’s reaction had been perfectly natural. No alarm bells, no wariness. He had probably never heard the name before.

This meant that the name ”TDI,” or ”Targeted Dream Incubation,” had likely never appeared on the police’s radar.

His tightly-wound nerves relaxed slightly. With today’s forensic technology, it was highly unlikely that anyone could hide every single trace of their activities.

After all, this was a commercial project that was openly recruiting testers and had plenty of user feedback. How could it possibly remain so completely hidden?

Therefore, there probably really wasn’t a connection between TDI and the ”lethargy” of the suicide victims.

He had simply taken two isolated events and, fueled by fear, forced a connection where there was none, letting his imagination get the better of him.

Having come to this conclusion, Yu Xian looked back at the TDI webpage. The grayish-white login box was still on the screen.

Now that the risk seemed to be minimal, there was no reason to hesitate any longer.

He took a deep breath, picked up his phone, pulled up the MAC address in his settings, and typed it into the input field.